


I Didn't Like these Sheets Anyway

by does_that_scare_you



Category: The Gentlemen (2019)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Morning Kisses, Pillow Talk, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28056360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/does_that_scare_you/pseuds/does_that_scare_you
Summary: "Well well, Raymundo. I don't know why couples want to avoid arguing so bad, the best sex comes out of it!", Fletchers says while cleaning his hand with a tissue from the nightstand.
Relationships: Fletcher/Raymond Smith
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	I Didn't Like these Sheets Anyway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sierra_roe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sierra_roe/gifts).



> For my lovely sierra_roe! I hope that you like this little gift of mine, it took a while, but well...I also hope that the phrase 'All good things are worth waiting for' applys to this!

"Stop it."

"Stop what, darlin'?", Fletcher asked, finger tapping against the grey skeleton of that used to be his cigarette, crumbling as it met the ashtray.

Ray grunted. "Starring at me like that."

The inspective journalist smirked, travelling the strong silhouette - almost lost in the lilac darkness - with his eyes. "Like what?", he teased.

"As if you wanted to eat me, filthy old man", the younger man said with an eye roll.

"You know if I had wanted to eat you at any point of our...lovely business", in one fluent motion Fletcher turned towards the nightstand, putting out the puff completely before returning to Raymond and lazily smoothing his hand over his bare chest, reddish hair tickling his palm, "I would have already done so."

"Safe the dirty talk."

"I can't help it", Fletcher shrugged.

Wherever it was on the backseat of the cap, the hideous carpet in his hideous former flat or now in this king-sized bedroom above the fine streets of Chelsea; Ray was truly a sight for sore eyes. With all this fuss about being a gentleman - the posh behaviour, the expensive clothing sponsored by Big Mike -, his thoughtfully kept shape and his smart mouth, so talented above as well as below the belt... 

"Glad that you decided to help me inaugurate my new home", the older man muttered as his hand slipped lower; underneath the sheets, caressing Ray's abdominal muscles tentatively.

"I would have brought a bottle of champagne if I didn't get distracted by someone..." the younger man sighed lowly as he felt him drawing circles on his inner thigh. It would bother him to give up the control like that, embarrass to feel blood filling his cock with fierce heat and all of it do to one of the sketchiest men in all of London. He really would, if it wouldn't feel so good.

"We both are busy men, Raymondo. I find it only appropriate to save time by skipping the champagne and coming right to business." And with that, he grasped Ray's full hardness.

"Fuck...", he breathed, leaning his head back as Fletcher slowly started to pump him.

"Like that?", he grinned close to the younger man's neck, breathing in the scent of fading cologne, sweat and sex.

"Quite-quite so."

"Yeah?"

He picked up speed, sweet pre-come dripping down the length of Ray's cock and aching balls, which the inspective journalist was generous enough to fondle as well with warm, tender hands.

A pathetic whimper escaped his parted lips at the sensation of it.

"Play it as fancy as you want, darlin'", the older man whispered, refreshing the purple marks on Ray's jaw from last night, "it will always be the simple things that keep you satisfied."

"As-ah...as if the same thing wouldn't apply to you."

"Might be, Ray, but at least I am on the outside the same one I am on the inside. A sly fox. A predator. But you, you with your precious attitude and everything...who could have thought that you are such a little...", he smiled and squeezed the younger man slightly. 

"Shut up, you little cunt, just keep going."

"Now who is talking dirty, eh darlin'?" He threatened to slow down.

"I swear to god, Fletcher, if you stop-"

"You shall not use the name of the Lord in vain, Exodus 20:7, Ray."

And just as the younger man was ready to argue about that ridiculous line, he came. Violently. With bucking hips and a long, obscene curse. With knocked-out lungs, a soaked face and a very pleased-looking inspective journalist hovering above him.

"Well well, Raymundo. I don't know why couples want to avoid arguing so bad, the best sex comes out of it!", Fletchers says while cleaning his hand with a tissue from the nightstand. "And the biggest messes", he added with a look at the sheets, drenched by Ray's release.

"Oh, now you worry about covers?", the later snorted.

"I was just kidding, my darlin', don't be such a priss", the older man smirked, "I didn't like these sheets anyway." He kissed Raymond's cheek, who just sighed and kissed him back. 

The purple of the morning's beginning has increased into red that threw rich shadows onto the walls, curtains and the younger man's already flushed face. The picture was idyllic, if there wasn't...

"Now that your problem is solved, maybe you could help me with-"

The first tunes of a slow piano song pierced the morning atmosphere brutally.

"What the-"

"My phone."

Ray straightened his back until cracked before slipping out of the bed, cringing at the stickiness between his thighs. He bent down to the small pile of clothing at the bedside that hid his clothing.

"Stay in that position and I'll joining you."

The younger man held a finger in front of his lips to symbolize him to be quiet.

"Hello? Morning, Mickey."

Fletcher rolled his eyes. "Doesn't he have a watch?"

Ray threw a pillow at him.

"Nothing, nothing. That was just the TV. Anyway, what's up? ...now? Where? ...your office? No! No, no need to pick me up, it's alright. I'll be there in...forty minutes? ...twenty? Mickey, there was a heavy accident in my neighbourhood, I don't know if- ...alright thirty! Is thirty good? Thanks, see you."

"Even the lord rested on Sunday! So why not rich junky-asses too?!"

"Since when do people like you take a look at the bible, Fletcher?"

"I don't need a bible, your ass is enough religion to me. When are you going to quit and make your own business with me? The only thing we'll be doing so bum-fuck early is this..." The inspective journalist had come closer and now traced the surprisingly plush curve of Ray's behind.

"Dream on, you perverted cunt."

"My dreams are only occupied by this beauty."

"Very moving", Ray shuddered as Fletcher kissed the soft skin. "Let me go."

"Or else?"

"Or else, Mickey makes me dismember myself like that fucking Jew."

"If he makes you choose, take the backside, yes? That would make more than one pound in your case."

The younger man snickered through his nose.

"Can I use your shower?"

"Feel at home, darlin' and while you are in the bathroom you should do something about your neck."

"Fletcher...what about my neck?"

"Well, you should better see it yourself."

"Did you...FUCKING MARK ME UP?"

"Oops, my bad, wasn't I supposed to?"

"YOU LITTLE SHIT! WHEN I'M BACK I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!", Ray yelled as he stormed off to the bathroom.

"Oh...well in that case, take your time!"


End file.
